The Carnation Beauty
by Coco Tutu
Summary: "A contract with the Devil King was made so that at the age of eighteen, I would marry him; in exchange, my heart would start beating." That irresistible, yet so devilish smirk of his—poor Mikan was just so helpless against it. AU. #1
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters or Gakuen Alice at all. Unfortunately. ):

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**Chapter 1: Arrival**

There was no wailing or screams to be heard; the baby's mouth stayed shut, showing off its plump lips that didn't move an inch. Yuka flinched, as her arm trailed to her baby's rosy cheeks and looked directly at everyone around with wandering eyes. Her baby's eyes didn't open. "Why isn't she waking up?" she mumbled quietly, watching eyes trail down to the rocky pavement.

"Do we _have_ to repeat ourselves? Why isn't she waking up?!" Izumi yelled, much louder than his silent wife.

The rain carried on tapping its icy cold droplets against the window. A tense fusion of silence and disappointment filled the room as Izumi covered his shameful face with his sleeve. It was supposedly meant to be the happiest time of the day—the day that the married couple would remember as a memory forever; the arrival of Mikan Sakura, their beautiful daughter.

Yuka hated the harsh hits of the rain, it was too loud and couldn't help her concentrate. The rain was heavy with the grieves of humans and sorrows that people bottled inside them. Such a hard-hitting feeling, sadness was. It could control every part of you and you got to say nothing. The words that spilled out of your mouth was never was you wanted, but what your feelings wanted.

"Mr and Mrs. Yukihara, w-we have terrible news regarding your dear child Mikan here and—"

"I think we've figured that out already, Narumi! Just spit out with it!" Yuka demanded, fiercer than what people expected. Although she was a woman of no frown lines or grey hairs, she could be strict when she wished and that could be down-right scary.

Narumi's golden, tangled hair covered his face as he attempted to spit the bad news out, "Mikan—she's—her heart, it's..." Before saying the last work, the blonde took a deep, heavy breath and did his best to look away from the couple's horrified face. "It has stopped." They waited for an explanation, something more than what they thought had happened, but Narumi detested the thought of speaking further.

"_How_ did this happen?" Yuka softly whispered, palms covering her largely-sized orbs. "Please, do tell us, Narumi! We need to know!"

"During her arrival, her heart just completely stopped...we're not sure exactly when or how it happened but we just didn't know how you'd react—" The sounds of Yuka's wailing and cries made Narumi hush in silence, along with the rest of the crowd whose tears began to stream down their faces in agony. Seeing Yuka cry was never something to happen, being the optimist she was.

The rain exceeded to a heavy thunderstorm. They all could just feel the grief churning in their stomachs, rolling around and doing somersaults. By now, Izumi felt sick and though he tried to support and comfort his sobbing wife by not crying, his tears just came pouring. Their beloved baby was not breathing, moving or beating a heartbeat and all they could do was sit there, stare at her in misery and admire her beauty.

The Yukihara family lived in a very small village located south of Japan and they lived a very cultural life. For the twenty-seven years they had been living, they had both longed for a child. A beautiful girl or a boy who'd take over Izumi's marketing business, perhaps, but the chance of their dream happening vanished after seeing their dead child in their arms, crawled in to a ball like a helpless woodlouse.

"Oh, Mikan..." Yuka muttered, tucking an auburn-brown lock of hair behind her ears and having hair droop down as her neck bent down to meet contact with the eyelids of their dead baby. "What a beautiful girl you could grown up to be. We could have all been a family." She turned a head to her husband. "I am _so_ sorry Izumi, this is my entire fault."

Izumi dived in and wrapped his arms around his face, face wet with all his wiped away tears. "No, Yuka, don't ever say that again. This baby—our baby—is a memory and she will stay in our hearts, so please don't blame yourself."

As it was a village low in population, it was traditional that every member of the village must visit the baby after being delivered. Sure, it was a big crowd to handle, but it was thoughtful. But this had been the first time the whole crowd was in tears and with all the rain, many people were soaked and left outside as there wasn't enough room for them all to be fit.

"Mikan..."

.

The thunder roared violently, lightening up the dark room as he stared against the window, eyeballing the river that normally flowed in a wave, smoothly below; today, the waves crashed against each other like a miniature tide and splashes of water crashed against the smooth-edged rocks. "Rain..." he muttered, voice deep and looking back at the thundering sky.

His whole body felt frigid against the sight.

Natsume just _loved _that feeling.

"Oi, Natsume! Come over here!" a hindering voice echoed around the room.

"Andou, where the hell are you?" the lost boy replied, looking over his shoulder and eyes wandering across the big, black room.

"I'm just down the hall!" In annoyance, Natsume took himself to the hall and saw the pink-haired Misaki, bags under eyes as usual. There was a crystal ball in front of her and despite being more fish-eyed than humanly pictured, you could just about make out what it was showing you. You could see very well that her concentration was focused and her eyes were directed in to the center of the crystal ball to ensure the visibility of the image.

"What_ is_ this that you brought me all the way down for?" he demanded to know, voice raised.

"Oh for goodness sake, just take a damn look and stop being impatient!" The courageous boy—no, _devil_, rather, pushed Natsume's head down as he squinted his eyes and saw the blurry image come to life and take form as a motion picture.

The sobbing, the cries, the disappointed looks on their faces; Natsume could see and hear it all. He carried on watching as he saw a small, human baby take place on its mother's lap, not moving. Thinking it was asleep, a small growl escaped Natsume's lips. Just the sight of _it_ made him feel sick.

Weird creatures, humans were. Odd and too determined. Why did they try so hard after losing something precious to them? Why did they sob so hard they were nearly out of tears?_ Stupid_, Natsume thought. Those tears would do nothing; they were meaningless. Acception was something they lacked by far, but the confused boy just stayed crouched down, head spinning with perplexity.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Yukihara..." Natsume noticed a couple of men bowing their heads in dismay, apologizing sadly. Though by the looks of it, there was nothing that any of them had done. No crimes or killing, just the miserable mood was what brought it to such a tense moment. The brunette shook her head, telling them that they should not be apologizing for something they never did.

"Andou, what is this? I'm confused out of my mind."

"Just look at the baby, Natsume! It's not breathing—its heart stopped beating the minute it was brought to this world and it looks like the couple were just informed because they seem like a right mess, though the woman is taking it less harsh than the father. I mean, just look at the man, tears all over—"

"Shut up, I'm watching." Andou zipped his mouth and did as he was told in obedience.

Pieces of the puzzle were still missing, however: why were the citizens crying? It wasn't their baby, nor was it any part of their concern of what happened to it so why were the tears streaming like Niagara Falls? Though you could read and study books about them, a human's heart was difficult to dissect. It was complicated and fragile; sometimes you could set yourself off crying in the midst of doing something important.

But what was important, that Natsume also didn't know that wasn't in the books either, was that the best way to understand a human heart is to befriend someone with one because frankly, it's not that hard to do.

The little pests—_humans_, didn't separate and go home at all. They stood there in the rain, face down with misery and not wanting to look at the mother of the baby. Natsume had to admit that it was horrible sight to see a child die in the arms of their mother, but it wasn't as bad as they were dramatically acting it out to be and to be standing out in the rain for hours on end—how _could_ they be so selfless like that?

"What will we do with the baby?" someone in the crowd piped up, raising his voice as loud as he could over the sound of the tears.

"What will we do with it?" the father repeated, looking over to his thinking wife. "Yuka, it's up to you. You brought it to this Earth, you should be able to decide and make the decision of how you want to take it out." He placed a gentle hand on hers, their levels of eye contact meeting. A small, peck of a kiss was landed on her forehead as he entitled her of the position of her baby's death.

"Well, to me, the best option is—" Before the hesitant woman was able to speak her mind, she was interrupted by a different person in the crowd with a different opinion to hers.

"Let's give her to the devils and see what they do to her!" By now, the tears amongst the crowd magically stopped and eyes and heads turned to this person. His confidence of opinion had decreased and by now, the man's face crumpled. He hid ashamed face by drooping his face down and facing the rocky ground they were standing on.

"Well isn't this just so _interesting_?" Natsume said, no sarcasm intended. He stood up from his crouched position and got Andou on his feet too as they both watched Misaki's eyes coming back to life and fluttering open like the wings of a butterfly. Sitting down cluelessly, Tsubasa grabbed her by her Japanese kimono and forced her to stand up.

That smirk of his—the one that he was known so well for—was visible, stretched right across his face like he was suddenly interested in something so trivial to him. Things were getting fun. He liked all the commotion they caused.

"We're going down to _there_, aren't we?" Andou asked, terrifiedly. Despite being years older than the man next to him, this affected the level of horror he held against Natsume by no means. Age or no age, that man was powerful and when he wanted something...he'd get it.

With one eye closed and a sentence worth a thought, they were gone and all was left was black sand that dropped to the floor but were slowly blown away by the harsh strength of the wind.

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Mochiage regretted saying what he said. He thought he was being daring, doing the right thing and voicing your own opinion is basically the same thing as doing the right thing, right? Wrong. He didn't want to be looked at with all those frowns and beady eyes that glared upon him like they could possibly kill.

His face felt hot and with all the stares he received, he felt the urge to just run away and not show his face around the village ever again.

"The devils...?" Yuka called out, unsure. She stood up and gave Mikan to Izumi for the time being, but only continued to walk forward, eyes darting to a particular thing—or creature. "The devils, you say? Is that what you call them?" Her calm yet disappointed face was no more, but replaced by a collision of horror and intensity.

"Yes, the devils. I can see why you're unsure of who they are, Mrs. Yukihara as you and Mr. Yukihara are new to this village but the main point is that you should stay away and avoid talking about them at all costs. As this village as got the seal of the devil assigned to it, they run this village; many people are afraid of migrating here. That's why the population is to such a minimum," a person from the front row explained, minimizing his sentence as much as possible.

"The devils..." Yuka repeated for the third time, eyes even more intense than before. Izumi knew that from the look in her eyes, something wasn't right, she wasn't acting so assured than she used to be. "Is that..._them_?"

Everyone's eyes trailed to the sky, not wanting to face the same horror that she had. They wanted for it to be a joke, what she had just said—but it wasn't. There they all stood, thousands of human-sized creatures, all standing in rows. There were thousands and compared to the villagers who backed away with fear and surrounded that empty silence with screaming, their numbers were _nothing_. They were all so feeble, like a deer caught in headlights.

However, their looks were nowhere near as terrifying as their leader's—jet-black, tousled hair that had strands left in his eyes and those crimson-shaded orbs that you could almost feel looking through you. He was handsome, or even_ beautiful_, as some might say. The long-sword behind his back was covered in blood, like it hadn't been washed since the last time he had been in a fight with someone.

He was so handsome that it was scary how he turned in to the Devil King. That aura of his, cold and frightening was almost unapproachable. One gaze in his eyes and you'd be caught in a trap, because you wouldn't be able to stop looking. They were too hypnotizing to be human; even in the dark, they were able to be visible. They were so illuminating it was_ horrifying_.

Yet, the horror in Yuka's eye calmed. Her half-open mouth shut close as she walked past the terrified crowd, and faced the king with determination.

"What do you want from us?" she sharply asked, kimono falling down to the ground.

"Are you their leader?" Natsume ignored her question, hands calmly in his pockets.

"No, I am not. But you need to answer my question."

"What do_ I_ want?" He raised a hand as the thunderstorm picked up again, wind blowing in all of their faces. Yuka stayed still, tense, but still. She could feel his movements and knew his next move.

"_Izumi, _get Mikan!" It was too late. Before they knew it, she had disappeared out of their sight and into the king's creamy-pale hands. "Don't you_ dare_ touch her, you piece of filth!" Out of shock, Natsume's laughter erupted and echoed around but as he finally came to a stop, sharp eyes glared back at the woman as he lowered himself out of the sky and back down to the ground. Though she was short and he was taller, that fierce look didn't escape her eyes.

"Fiesty," he said. "I _hate_ those types of woman." There was a sudden pause as the wind blew both of their hair to the side, but with hands still in pockets, Natsume opened his mouth to say, "Still, I've got your precious little baby here and one thing you say can trigger me to steal her away. I would be able to do anything I want with her. Heck, she could be my pet for all I care." The crowd of devils released an eruption of laughter, but Natsume's face stayed in pause.

"You can't. She's _dead_," Yuka spat out.

"What do you take me for—a clueless _dog_? Of course I know that, woman!"

Yuka's eyes widened in repulsion, eyeballing the man in front of herself. Could it be? That he could actually...revive her? It wasn't possible, right?

"You can't—"

"I'm the King of the underworld, woman! Don't underestimate me!"

In disbelief, Yuka refused to believe his words. They were far too forced to be true, all too fake and artificial. She _hated_ that, being lied to. With a raise of a hand to slap the man right across the face, he took her hand before she could even reach half way between the distance between them and shoved it back by her side. His _eyes_; she couldn't stop staring away.

"What do you want in return for Mikan's revival?" she asked, glowering as she curled her fists in to two tights balls, seeing the sight of _that _smirk.

"No!" The cries of the citizens and villagers became to a point where they were unbearable. Screams and loud sounds of yelling could be heard miles away, being so loud. "No, Mrs. Yukihara, don't do it! You'll have to owe him a debt of gratitude that you will probably never be able to pay off! Don't do it!" Even Izumi's words meant nothing to her decisions—what Yuka said, goes. Her words were final.

_Is this the fate I chose for you, Mikan? Should I have to be saying sorry to you, several years from now?_

"I'll decide that after I bring her to life."

Black sand appeared before Mikan and he let go of her body, allowing the sand to take care of the rest. While half of it held the baby, the rest of the half dived in to the place her heart was; at the sight of this, Yuka squirmed. Her face didn't want to see her baby in agony and her nails dug in harder against her skin, leaving a slightly pink bruise.

Of course, it was Natsume's turn to tell her that the couple's baby was not going to be hurt during the process—but what fun would that be? Watching her terrified face was one of the most fun things he had ever experienced and as much as he enjoyed watching her pain, the sand dived back out of her body and—

"_Waaaaaa_!"

Yuka blinked. She blinked again. Did she just hear...the siren of her own baby's wail? Before she could grab her hands and dive in for the crying Mikan, Natsume was too fast, again. She knew it was all good to be true.

"Now, what should I ask of you, I'm not so sure about right now..." Yuka groaned.

Little Mikan stretched, stopped her crying and everyone watched as her eyelids fluttered open with life. Though the thundering storm went raging for hours, it had begun to clear up; even though everyone else had not realized this out of all the commotion that had just happened, Natsume's sharp ears had. There was just something about this baby...

A stroke of a hand; that's all it took. Mikan's little hands reached up to stroke his face and she whispered the word, "_Stay_."

Everyone felt shocked. Not once in history had this happened and even Natsume, the Devil King, could believe it. The first several minutes of being alive and she was already able to say her first word—no one was sure whether it meant something or not, nor were they sure to be happy or unhappy about her being alive. They could have been happy for her, but Yuka Yukihara had just signed a contract with the_ devil_, for goodness sake!

Biting his lip and feeling the blood cause a small explosion in the insides of his mouth, a sudden carnation flower sat delicately on his hand. "Do you know what a carnation flower means in China?" he asked her, watching Yuka shake her head. "But your dearest husband knows, doesn't he?" Natsume's eyes darted to Izumi's and with after a disappointed nod, he shot a frown to the Devil King, fury raging violently. "Go ahead and tell your clueless wife here, she's going to be in for one hell of a shock!"

"Izumi..." Yuka mumbled, head turned around to face her husband who was more than fifteen metres away from her.

"Yuka, it means marriage. A carnation flower represents marriage in China." Whipping her head back to the smirking devil, Yuka had the temptation to just grab that sword of his and slice every bit of his limbs off—but she couldn't. She had to stay shocked, out away in the clear sky, with nothing to be able to do but agree; if she wanted to refuse from the depths of her heart, it still wouldn't matter what she thought.

He was the Devil King, he'd do what he wanted.

"That's right, dearest _father-in-law_!"

Even Natsume's tribe were left speechless.

He _hated _humans, and with the choice of many other female devils, why did he have to choose her of all people?

With no control, Yuka's arms stayed limp by her side. She was helpless against this figure in front of her, but it was all her fault. She had been the one who agreed to the contract, so it was_ her_ fault and she should have been hating herself for it. "Al of this fails to make sense in my mind, how can you be marrying a one-day old baby?" Natsume and his crew laughed hysterically, in spite of the woman not meaning for it to be a joke.

"Oh no, I don't think you understand clearly. Let me explain, by the age of eighteen, precious Mikan here would have lived her normal life as a teenager. Do what you like, move to a different city and let her live the normal way a teenager should have, though frankly, I don't give a flying bullcrap as I'll still be able to locate you and drag your sorry asses down back here with this contract. Anyway, by her eighteenth birthday on midnight, we'll be back here, the place where you agreed to this all and I'll have full control over her for the rest of her life."

"What will you be doing to sign off the contract, then? I don't suppose you devils have been carrying a spare pen and piece of paper in your pockets."

"This carnation flower will sign it off." With it still sitting in the devil's hand, Natsume raised it higher to let everybody see and a loud noise (which mainly seemed like a cheer) came from their tribe. He finally took it back down, placed it against Mikan's stomach and whispered something which happened to be a quote from the bible; by now, the carnation flower was then no more than a tattoo on her stomach, which would gradually grow bigger as she grew older. It was a symbol of restriction and that wherever she went, Mikan was still under the control of the Devil King.

No matter how hard she tried, she just wouldn't be able to release the grasp of his chains and locks.

* * *

I'm still unsure whether I should carry this on, or start another fanfic, then write them both at the same time (although chapters take me centuries to write, it's summer so I honestly have all the time in the world right now!)

I took so many different ideas with the title to come to this one, my mind was in a blur by the time I finished writing a whole list of ideas. D: It doesn't matter to very many people, but to me, it does matter a lot, hahaha.

So anyway, to finish this off, I'd just like to say a big thank you for reading the first chapter of_ The Carnation Beauty _and if you could, leaving me a review would be a great help!

_-Coco_


	2. Chapter 2: Watching You

**Dislcaimer: Don't own.**

Your reviews, favourites and alerts_ all_ made me smile (especially the reviews!), I feel so grateful to be the author of this story!

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**Chapter 2: Watching You**

"Yuka. _Yuka_," her helpless husband called out to her, shaking the numb brunette as much as he could until eyes travelled to his. "Not sleeping and eating for days on end isn't going to help you at all—it's not healthy!" he pleaded in desperation, kneeling down in front of his sitting wife. The circles under her eyes proved so much more.

"Izumi..."she mumbled, placing the top of her head against his chest and having the tears sting to her bottom lashes. In agony, she held them back. The mother had been trying so hard to be strong without crying, she tried to be strong for everyone around her, but it was just no_ use_. An arm was wrapped against her small, fragile body and rubbed her back in a continuous, window-wiper motion. "I'm _sick_. I put the life of my very own child in danger! How can I still be living—I just don't understand _any_ of this! Why, out of_ all_ the women he had available to him, was it our dear and beloved Mikan?"

Izumi had no words to display his thoughts. His poor, miserable wife was sobbing so hard, the sounds of her crying cut out all thought in his mind. They were just both so caught up in everything, that they didn't realize Mikan had awoken from her slumber, but the sounds of her wailing weren't to be heard. She crawled out of her futon and tugged on to her father's jacket, eyes desperate with the craving of attention.

As much as he didn't want to, Izumi parted from his wife to crouch down even further and pick up their child. "What's wrong, Mikan? I'm sorry, did we wake you up?" Mikan shook her head. "Then what is it?"

"_He_ is lonely. _He_ is suffering." she replied, though not with a clear voice. Still, the two were able to hear it nevertheless. With that said, Mikan took her little feet and crawled back in to her futon, covering the blankets over head with only the sight of her head visible. The seven-month old baby was back to sleep almost immediately.

In spite of fearing the devils, the Yukihara family still continued to live in that village. They had somehow, weaved in to their brains that all of that night was just a dream and it never happened; Mikan was alive the whole time, she was never revived and that mark on her stomach didn't exist. But it did. All of it did. They feared that one day, they would take Mikan away before the day they promised.

Though Yuka's mind was numb in shock, she still built up her last amounts of strength to stand up and say, "Izumi, I've had enough. We're _moving_." Just like that, Izumi nodded to the words that his wife spoke, but he was too cowardly to say. "We're not having them anywhere near our daughter." Yuka's eyes always had that bold and courageous look in them—but now they didn't. She was too haunted by the terror that the devils had brought to them.

She could hear their laughs, watching them like a Reality TV show. To them, it was all just a damn _game_. But to Izumi and her, it was just so much more because they had been left in the corner with no energy to run, while the devils had gotten a head start. So _frustrating_, it all was.

.

The family definitely did not hesitate when it came to moving. After that week, they had already packed their bags, said goodbye to those villagers who were still talking to them after the incident but ignored those who did the same to them. The first place to move to, that came to mind was Miyazaki, but that reminded them that it was too close—so Fukuoka it was.

Fukuoka was a lovely place to live; they were all extremely happy with the choice. It wasn't the most populated, but it wasn't extremely empty either with no one there either. The lived near the sea so they had easy access to the beach which was a great idea as they were so all a big fan of water.

They were happy and that was all that was important for them, as well as Mikan's safety. Meanwhile, they decided to keep quiet about him for a while; even though they weren't sure till 'a while' was, they were definitely sure of the fact that the later their child knew, the better it was for them and the less they'd have to suffer.

Eventually, Mikan learnt to speak clearly without a lisp, and though it took a while for her to learn, she began to stand up and walk. Though her parents had thought of her as being a quick learner in everything, they soon realized she really _wasn't_.

Swimming was a difficulty to her so her small legs were always wrapped around her father's neck. The tide would always soon settle as they walked in, the pressure of the water hitting harshly against Izumi's legs.

That happiness soon ended, however.

"Daddy, let's go out to the beach! We haven't gone for absolutely _ages_!" the four-year old child smiled brightly, her petite hands tugging on to her father's who was too busy eating his pancakes that had syrup glazed all over them. "Oh come on, daddy!" Her eyes darted to her mother's to ask her, but her head immediately shook to signal a declining of the invitation. Mikan slumped, shoulders drooping and walked away with the most_ depressing_ face a child could plaster across their mouth.

"Alright alright, let me go get my trunks and we'll be off," he suddenly paused her, mouth smiling. Mikan whipped her head around and had her mouth wide open, then began clapping as a way to show off her immediate joy. They both set out to the beach of Fukuoka with their circular floats in one hand, bag full of towels and sun cream in the other.

It was an extremely short journey so in roughly five minutes, they were there; the sun was shining vibrantly and the wind was hardly there to be felt. Everything was so perfect, what could go wrong? Oh, just about _everything._

There were many people already in the sea as the summer day wasn't going to last, so making the best out of it was the perfectly reasonable idea that they had in their mind. Around fifty people were all scattered around the beach, whether it was inside the cold, but tolerable water or not. The majority stayed back, sitting and tanning on top of the grains of sand.

Meanwhile, Izumi sat down on the towel and placed open an umbrella where they both sat down, eyes trailing and eying all the excited people who were splashing about in the water. "Mikan, why don't you go play?" She shook her head; the poor child was too scared and still hadn't learnt to swim yet. "Look at those kids over there; they look a few years older than you. Why don't I ask for you if you can play with them?" For once, Mikan gave it a little thought before directing her hazel-coated orbs back to her father's and nodding in approval. They both smiled, walked hand-in-hand to the kids.

"Hello there, Mikan here is unsure how to swim and I was thinking if you'd like to play with her and help her a little bit as I'm tired and I need a rest." The other kids nodded happily, examining Mikan's little pigtails by her shoulders and began introducing each other.

Mikan and Izumi's fingers parted from each other, and Mikan looked back over her shoulder to see her father walking up the slope to the hill where they had been sitting down. The kids were all a bit weird looking with odd-coloured hair and all that, but she took a step in to the water and had a chill travelling down her spine as the coldness hitting against her toes was almost unbearable. Yet, the child carried on walking across the shallow area of the water with her new friends and the water temperature was soon forgotten. The pressure of the water hit against her fingers as she raised them from below the water to splash the girl next to her, and soon, Mikan already felt like her arrival on the beach lasted for centuries.

For over twenty minutes, they played together with no end; Izumi began to wonder where on Earth those children got their energy from, it was almost remarkable how they could keep going with a break.

A blue-haired girl, who seemed to have made friends with Mikan the easiest, followed Mikan to the ocean as they swam around, on top of their water floats in a relaxation mood. Finally, all her energy had been drained and a good rest was what Mikan needed.

"M-Mikan, we need to get out now, I think the water pushed us back nearer to the deeper water..." the girl mumbled, scared right out of her mind as she noticed the rest of their crew making an attempt to wave at them and motion them back. By now, even Izumi stood up to see her daughter being continuously pushed further in to the sea than he expected.

"You can go back since you have arm-bands and can swim if you need to. I'll just wait here until my father gets me, so tell him he can come for me anytime he wants." The girl nodded and pushed her float back by waving her arms in the water in circular motions.

"Stay safe!" she remembered to tell Mikan as the distance between them began to grow further and further as she swam away. Safe was the _last _thing Mikan was.

Mikan's eyes returned to their originally position which was being shut close and having her arms limp by her sides so that the water bloat underneath her made her stay stable on top of the water. The small brunette felt relaxed, she felt on top of the world. The sun was hitting hard against her skin and she felt the wind's pressure slowly decreasing as time passed—everything was perfect.

"Mikan!" voices alarmed Mikan. "Mikan, open your eyes!" In shock, she fluttered them open and saw the tide that was overcoming the water and would soon enough manage to reach her.

In fear, Mikan's hand froze and went completely numb like they had just been chopped off and she wasn't able to move as a result. That calm, peaceful stare that she was giving off minutes ago had completely vanished and was swapped with the feelings of terror that made her feel so trapped, like she was _powerless_ against this monster.

Izumi took no second thought before diving in to the water and swimming as far as he could and reaching up to the float that Mikan was crouched upon. Within minutes of reaching there, he grabbed hold of her hand and pressed hard upon it. "Mikan, look at me! You're safe, don't worry!"

He was completely ignored, until Mikan gave the same raise of the hand that Yuka did four years and spoke out with a clear voice, "_Hand_." This took a while to process in Izumi's mind; he didn't understand, what did she mean by that? Just as he turned his head around, the tidal wave shape was no more—but in the shape of a hand. Yes, as bizarre and unrealistic as it was, the shape was formed in to hand that had an index finger pointing to Mikan. It was getting closer by the minute and by the pace of Izumi's swimming, they were going to be caught up to.

But they were lucky. Just as Mikan snapped out of her unmovable position, she reached out her hand and began digging in to the water, hands gliding smoothly. It helped the process of Izumi's swimming go faster and they were soon enough back on the shore, as the wave died down just a few inches away them. Several arms were wrapped around Mikan's neck and she could feel the pulse of her heartbeat still beat faster than usual, but what she had just not experienced seemed nothing like the exhilarating pain she should've after being crashed by the water, so why was is it like her heart was about to pound out of her heart?

"Guys, did you see that?" she asked them after their arms were back by their sides. "T-The hand, I mean. The hand that was shaped by the water and was pointing to me."

"What?" was all she got. Mikan blinked in uncertainty. Was that all a _dream_? She looked back at her father, but his head was in a daze and eyes were too unclear to understand.

"T-The hand! It was _right_ in front of me!"

"You were probably so shocked that you began to see things." They looked just as confused as Mikan was, but worse—what _was _she going on about? Was this girl crazy? Because what t_hey_ saw was nothing that looked like a hand, but a normal tidal wave.

"That's...not possible. C'mon, we're going back home right _now_," Izumi interrupted them, voice low and head facing the sand. The wind began to strengthen as they rushed back home with the same items that they had in their hands when they came; this time, their hands weren't holding each other's. Their minds were just busying themselves with thoughts of confusion, until Izumi had found the answer not too soon after.

"Yuka, we've got to move again—they've found out about where we are," he had told his wife after Mikan had gone to bed, with a hand that travelled to his forehead, as if to show his own stupidity. Just after Izumi had explained the situation, Yuka let the pots and pans that she was washing to the side and rested her head against the kitchen counter in dismay.

Their life was being ruined by a single man who they hadn't seen for four years.

.

Mikan had never been to prom before, nor had she been to any type of balls, let alone an informal masquerade ball that her school was holding for all the eleventh graders—she was sixteen-years old, for goodness sake; what kind of teenager like her didn't go to a prom before? Mikan Sakura, that's who. After moving towns and cities for the sixteen years she had lived, not once had her parents firmly agreed to live somewhere permanently. She suspected it to be a financial crisis they were dealing with, as it was something that they refused to tell Mikan about, but living in Florida was _not _making their money-situation any better.

_Probably not to worry me_, she thought. On a certain level, she was right. They were keeping it away from the brunette to secure her safety; on a whole game, she was wrong, oh-so wrong.

Shopping for her dress was just such a pain; her mother refused to let her go shopping on her own. It was always 'safety first' or 'I need to protect you' or 'it isn't safe out there'.

With two hands covering her face, she dared to stare at the vividly-green coloured dress that came down to Mikan's ankles. Her mother, who was holding it, smiled cheerily and kept waving it in front of her daughter with a grin. "Mum, it's a masquerade ball, _not _an 80's disco party," she insulted, snatching hold of it and putting it back on to the shelves. "Your help is appreciated and reassuring, very much so in fact," she lied, arms by her side. "...but you just need to understand that I need to do this on my _own_, so if you could please just wait by the cash till while I pick out a dress in ten minutes, that would be very helpful."

Yuka, whose eyes were rolling during her daughter's sentence, nodded in approval and ruffled her daughter's head.

"Thanks!" Mikan squealed, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and searching away.

The name for the shop should've been re-titled, '_Prostitutes R Us_'. Small, butt-revealing dresses that you'd have your boobs hanging all over the places was definitely not what she was looking for, but it was all they had. After (what seemed to be) hours on end, she had seen enough dresses to last her a whole century. In fact, she could've bet that the designers just made a long dress, and shrunk it in the wash purposely to gain the whole 'boob-hanging' and 'butt-showing' effect.

Besides the one that Yuka picked out, there were no other less-revealing dresses—except one. It was a black, spaghetti strap dress that flowed just a few inches about her knee and though it was incredibly simple, less is more. Meanwhile, her friends were going to be more formal with Cinderella-type dresses; Mikan just gagged at the thought. Cinderella? Princes? Fairytales? Oh, how untrue they all were.

How despicable and selfish she seemed at that moment, buying the dress of her life and matching mask while her parents were in a 'financial crisis', or so it seemed.

At that moment, Mikan had _no_ idea. She was just too naive for her own good.

"Mum! I found the perfect one—it looks really nice, too! And it _isn't_ for prostitutes!" she screamed across the store, not remembering to lower down her tone in case of other people shopping. Eyes were on her as she pursed her lips and walked back shamefully to her mother, who had been biting the insides of her mouth to stop the abruptions of laughter that would soon escape her lips. "Sorry..."she muttered under her breath, shuffling to the cash till and putting the dress and mask that she'd chosen across the counter.

"Never coming back here ever again?" Yuka whispered in Mikan's ear, in a jokey tone. Her daughter shook her head in refusal.

"Never again."

The upcoming Friday (which was the day of the ball) came like a blur—everyone was so in to it that the principal suggested that since their exams were over and they had so many free periods available, they should use all of them to help out with all the preparations; so, school days went faster than Mikan chewing during Christmas dinner.

Although it started at six o'clock, Mikan just had to come early for that 'just in cases' she had, which normally happened over anxiety. Still, it seemed to be worth it as the majority of the time she should have been preparing was spent over fighting with her parents.

"Mikan, we'll drop you off—"

"But mum, I told my friends I'd walk with them there," she desperately interrupted her mother, who was surprised.

"No, Mikan. Too dangerous. We'll drop you off." Mikan left her mouth hanging, until she grabbed hold of Yuka's wrist and looked at her with beady eyes.

"I'm _sixteen_, mum! Can't you trust me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, I don't trust what's out _there_—"

"You've said that over and over again so many times that I can just memorize every single excuse you've told me!"she pleaded, frantically waving her arms about in the air to emphasise her exaggeration. "Please, just this once!"

"No, Mikan, end of."

"Oh please, just this once! I've got a cell phone and everything!"

"Oh, for god's sake, don't you understand—"

"Yuka, give her this. She's right; she's got a cell phone and if anything happens, our number is on speed dial. She's with two close friends that we approve of so shouldn't this be fine?" Izumi interrupted, just after he had finished the dishes that had just been washed. His wife, however, didn't look so cheery.

"Look, mister,_ you_ shouldn't be butting in at all. You were the cause of that happening twelve years ago so you seal your mouth close before I have to do it for you," she hissed in to his ear, leaning closer to his body.

"What happened twelve years ago?" Mikan's sharp ears picked up as she walked closer to her parents, curious. Her parents just stayed silent and avoided her gaze. "Why do you never tell me anything? I _knew_ it—neither of you trust me!"

"Look, Mikan, if you avoid this subject and completely forget about it, we'll let you go. How about that?" Yuka's opened her mouth to object, but Izumi covered her mouth with a smile. "Now go, before your mother gets you!" Mikan smiled—she had always been such a daddy's girl.

With a speedy run, she grabbed her black and gold mask, bag and jolted out of the door without a second word. Meanwhile, Yuka glared at her husband.

.

Vibrant lights filled the football-field sized hall as Mikan walked in; there seemed to be a mixture between prostitute dresses to Cinderella dresses, but frankly, Mikan was wearing neither—though she was _extremely _close to wearing a prostitute one out of the limited amount of choices she had. She held the rod of the mask to her face, allowing only the visibility of her eyes and hair show through, with the small case of her mouth.

In spite of looking so plain, Mikan had dressed up so beautifully. Her simple dress was hugging her small body; her chest-length hair, which she wasn't so normally happy about and tied up, was curled at the bottom and resting by her shoulders. Not much make up either, not that it really _mattered_ anyway since her face wasn't going to be the centre of the attention.

"Mikan, we'll be off to our dates, have fun!" her friends said, shuffling out of Mikan's reach before she could say anything. The lonely girl sat down on an empty table in the corner of the hall—all that time of preparing for nothing! Heck, her friends even promised they'd go together instead of going with boys! What friends _they_ turned out to be.

With one hand cupping her cheek, Mikan watched the so-in-love couples dance in front of her with the music of Paramore's song, The Only Exception playing in the background to make the so-called 'mood' more romantic. What a load of guff, that was; it was just about everything _but_ romantic!

_I swear to god, if I'm alone for more than two more minutes, I will go home—_

"Are you sitting alone?" a voice piped up, taking a seat next to the brunette. Though Mikan had not realized it at first, his voice had such a smooth and rich flow to it, charmingly embracing the air like an evening perfume. Out of shock, Mikan panicked and looked around.

"I-I think you've got the wrong girl, sir."

_What? No! Oh damnit, Mikan, you're driving him away! Now he'll go over to where the actual person he's looking for is and—_

"Oh, no. I haven't got a date, and I was thinking since by the looks of you, you don't either..." By the tone of his voice, Mikan felt offended. "...perhaps we could, y'know, dance together?"

The melodic rhythm of the music got to Mikan—oh, what a softie she was becoming! "As blunt as you are, I-I'd love to," she anxiously replied, taking her stand and having her sweaty hands, stiff and by her side.

"Give me your hand."

She blushed in embarrassment, raising her hand and watching him take her wrist towards the dance floor which was occupied and busy with couples dancing. How awkward it seemed as Mikan didn't know a single_ thing _about dancing.

"You don't know how to dance," he bluntly put it forward, once again.

"No, and by the looks of it, you do," she responded, putting up her chilled-out facade which just didn't happen to be fooling him.

"I've had lessons for slow dance." Mikan mouthed an 'oh', before wondering how rich this guy was—a creamy white suit that complimented his skin, and a matching, white mask that you could only see his hair and eyes from. Oh, his _eyes_. They were so _rich _in colour, beautifully entrancing; it was like she was being purposely forced to look at them, hypnotized, almost. How could they be so beautiful? "Just follow my steps and you'll feel your body moving by itself."

The minute his fingers laced around hers, Mikan felt a magnetic chill and goose-bumps running down the layers of her skin. _So cold_. Even though his eyes gave off a warm aura, the feeling against his skin definitely didn't. She wondered if he could feel through all the layers of sweat that had somehow, dried up on her palms.

As they began to dance, Mikan could feel him being right. Her body movements were uncontrollable, the song and rhythm just flowed through her and she felt inseparable in his arms. "You're enjoying this," he hissed in her ear as Mikan woke up from her endless daydream with a startle.

"There you go, being so blunt again," she hissed back with a slight case of the blush, lingering on her coincidental rosy-pink cheeks.

"But you _like _that kind of bluntness, don't you?"

"Don't act as if you know me so well."

"Trust me," he said, before leaning closer to her ears and continuing his sentence by whispering, "I know you a _lot_ better than you think I do." His loitering breath was tingling against her skin, eyes open wide in jolt. They remained that way for a couple of seconds—her partner's face closer to her skin than anyone had ever been, until she gave him a light push.

"I-I think I need to use the wash...room..." Before she could completely finish her sentence, Mikan was out of his way and shoved through several people to finally reach the loos that were not occupied. She leaned against a sink, looking at herself and feeling sick.

The burritos she had for lunch were not making the situation any better than they already were.

_Alright, get it together, Mikan! He was just messing with you, so go back and dance with him again! _Her head was spinning in a circular motion that couldn't be stopped; nothing was going right that evening.

With plucked up courage, Mikan ran out of the bathroom and wandered her eyes to where they were dancing and the tables were they were sitting—no sight of him.

And once, just once when everything was going right, Mikan Sakura managed to mess everything up again.

* * *

Before I get 457329523 reviews bombarding me with the same question: Natsume was wearing a mask that you put on with the band around your head (so it was still on while he was dancing), and Mikan took hers off after they began to dance because hers was one that you have to hold. Just to clear that up haha. :)

ALSOO, I've now got story updates on my profile so if you ever want to see my upcoming stories, you're free to check over there!

And one review that I have to reply to:

**Princess Ivee:** Oh my god, you've heard of it?! :D I love that manga so much!

Thank you all for reading and have a good day! Leaving a review would be awesome!:D

_-Coco_


	3. Chapter 3: Back Again

**Disclaimer: Nope. **

Thank you all for the reviews, favourites and follows! You're all awesome!

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**.**

**Chapter 3: Back Again**

"Mummy, why do we have body guards outside of our house on my birthday every year?" I asked my mother on a continues loop, year after year, on the same day—December thirty-first, just the day before my birthday. Somehow, I felt like the whole 'I need to protect you' thing was going just a tad too far, I mean, _body guards_?

By gradual time, the school managed to hear about my 'over-protective mother's choice' and by one way or another, managed to plaster their brains with the fact that I'm _actually _a spy in disguise, working for the MI6 and the body guards are co-workers in disguise that come to discuss work-related plans every year, essential to prevent the happenings of nuclear bombings. I, on the other hand, started to believe that story for myself; I mean, it sounded so real that it was true. Not that it was, and working for the MI6 would be somewhat _interesting_, but I had nothing else to believe.

My parents didn't trust me enough to tell the truth, besides the usual 'your safety comes first' thing that I hear as endless years faded away.

That's what every parent says, duh—but do they hire body guards on their child's birthday? No, because they're not ridiculously idiotic enough to think that someone would actually have the enough amount of free time to hunt me down and kidnap me. I mean, what would they want from me anyway? I'm not exactly pretty, nor rich—but that doesn't stop the paranoia in my mother's mind that convinces her that something will happen to me.

I always put it up with it. I don't know how, but my mind just grew up to keep saying 'yes' and 'okay' all the time, even though I'm not particularly sure how it exactly happened. Sure, I had my rebellious teenager moments, but I guess that was just my mood-swings swinging wildly and out of control. I was an obedient daughter and did what I was told, because I knew that my parents were always right.

From a very young age, I'd have this perfect vision of how amazing adults were—coping with children, college or work and their husband/wife was something difficult. I always shoved down my throat the fact that they had lived for so many years, so their levels of experience exceeded ours by far. They knew what to do in tough situations.

But, we are only human; we will run away from our problems, and slowly, but painfully, watch them catch up to us in the end. No matter whether you have lived for two days, or two-hundred years.

.

The throbbing in my head didn't stop. It was like a mallet being whacked against my skull fifty times, and then I was just left, half-dead on the sidewalk with no one to help me. Still, that would have been better than what I experienced that night—I hadn't drank, nor was I twenty-one yet so the missing puzzle still hadn't been found. Whatever it was, it _killed_. Though I was technically asleep, my mind wasn't.

The pain just wouldn't go away.

Forcing my eyes open took a while; it was like my eyelashes were purposely super-gluing themselves so I'd go back to asleep and take the rest I needed, but no. If the pounding didn't go away, then neither would my urge to wake up. As motionless as my arms were, I moved my hand an inch and found the life coming back to me, immediately snapping my eyes open with force.

I wasn't in my room or house anymore.

Eighteen was such a scary number; a scary age, too. Still, finally being an eighteen year-old meant better to some people than worse, and I'd agree with them: more freedom, no more parents, moving out, having a boyfriend, getting my dream job, going to the college I wanted...how I'd always crave for that kind of life. Having my own family, living the normal life I wanted, and just being Mikan Sakura.

But everything about me—and _around _me, was anything excluding the word 'normal'.

I opened my eyes, only to see the full display of utter darkness. The bed my body was lying on wasn't as uncomfortable as the one at home; it was softer, and didn't give that irksome squeaking noise whenever I flinched or moved a leg. My fingers felt the touch of the satin-produced duvets that were a blood-red colour and matched the black mattresses, but no matter how much I tried, my mind wouldn't snap out of this so-called 'dream' that my mind made myself believe.

Though the excruciating pain of the pounding eventually went away the moment I stepped away from the king-sized bed and put on the dull-coloured slippers that were left in front of the bed as I wandered my eyes around the room. It was certainly large in size, but had no other furniture besides the bed or the bedside table next to it; the walls were bland with no exciting colours, only black and white patterned wallpaper.

An arched window was fitted right next to the bed, and even though the curtains decreased the amount of light illuminating through, you could still see a portion of it as they were slightly see-through.

Trying to make sense of this dream, I pushed the curtains away and opened the windows. The gust of wind in front of me was howling like a lost puppy; it hit my face just as I moved my frozen fingers and felt the life in them revive, although the sensation of pins and needles hitting my feet made no difference. Despite the two amounts of great pain in my body, I could still make sense of the sight of the darkened sky in front of me.

My mind began to slowly feel the realism in the scenario, heaving in the night-sky smell. It was _beautiful_.

The hovering moon stayed unmovable in the hours of darkness, the myriad stars replacing the sun that had finished its tour of the day. I laughed. For all I knew, I could have been drugged and kidnapped—but here I was, admiring the pretty little sky that I was admiring with my eyes.

I felt the numbness in my feet finally go away, till the point that the pins and needles took its leave. Looking from below the window, old and Japanese huts that you probably would've saw twenty years ago, maybe _thirty, _were seen. They were small, some bigger and more efficient, but they were still very traditional; none of that apartment or modern housing mumbo-jumbo. Tea houses, too.

"I see you've woken up," a voice alarmed me, causing my body to jump a little bit. Whipping my head around in shock, I saw a male figure—who was probably between the ages of twenty-two to twenty-four—standing by the door, which hadn't been there until now. "_He _wants you."

_He? _

In spite of the obscurity, I could just about figure out the person's appearance—of medium height, more towards the tall side, shaggy hair that was a darker shade of indigo and even though I couldn't make out the colour of his eyes in such little light, there was small tattoo of a star just beneath it.

"Where am I?" I immediately replied, hesitating to take a further step nearer to him. In response, he just released a small chuckle from the edge of his lips and smiled, pitifully. "I don't see the reason to laugh, it's not like I said something funny."

"You've really matured, Mikan," he told me before fading away, backing away behind the door and away in to the darkness.

My mind was now flooded with confusion, even more than it already had. I put two hands to my fizzling scalp, trying to remember bits and pieces of the night before but everything was in such a blur my brain wasn't able to focus. With one half being in a distraughtly mess, the other wanted solid answers.

The creaking noise of the twisting and turning of the doorknob grew the more I turned it, despite the strength put in my hand. It stayed stiff, not budging. With one shoulder leaning against the wooden door, I shoved against it and somehow managed to open the century-old piece of wood.

A dimly lit hallway stood in front of me; it was nothing like the halls of high school, with paintings of old 'ancestors' who originally 'bought' the school and all of that nonsense that no one really cared much about—it was more...bland. Black walls, red tiles and the breeze of the humid weather howling against your face. Walking faster and further in to the hall, I could see the blurry vision of a mirror, probably the size of your wardrobe.

Several doors sat along the hall; with all being locked, I supposed that shoving my shoulder against them would probably only result in a broken arm and a door that I'd probably have to pay for out of my savings. Becoming fascinated by the mirror, the focus to my eyes became clearer by the minute I was a metre away from it, and after a few inches of distance, I could see it perfectly.

Though it was greyer than reflective, one's image didn't fail to portray. Smeared dust rotted along the silver-coated lining of the mirror, but more than anything, it seemed _anciently _old with the large amounts of grime filling the edges and shallow crack lines filling the imagery.

I placed my clammy palms against it to smear the filth away, revealing the unintentional, yet mournful expression on my face, which I hadn't even noticed was there. Circles filled my bottom eyelids from the little amounts of sleep I gained, and my hair was tangled with all the knots filling the ends.

The kimono I was wearing didn't seem familiar to me, nor did I wear one just before going to bed. It was unfamiliar._ All_ of this was. I could question it all day, but wouldn't be help anything or anyone, particularly not myself.

"Sakura." My ears sharpened, hearing that smooth, rhythmic voice flow again in my ears. That deep and enticing voice—I could recognize it miles away. Not daring to turn my head around, I continued to stare back at the mirror that by now, had visualized his body that stood upright behind mine. "It's nice to see you again."

That face behind the mask was more than clear.

He put a hand against my shoulder. That was it: the same chill that ran down the layers of my skin as he touched his cold skin against mine two years ago. I could feel that electrifying touch that mentally zapped me. In contrary to what I expected from the man who had supposedly 'kidnapped' me, there was nothing monstrously_ vile_ or grotesque about this man and frankly, he was a knight in shining in armour; just without the shining armour. It was like he hadn't bothered with his hair: tangled, black strands that got in the way of his face, but this just made his appearance look a _whole_ lot more attractive.

But, one feature that I didn't understand lingered behind his back, hovering mid-air. _Wings_. Being black with a somewhat shade of light maroon, scales coarsely covered the majority of the wings with darkly tainted feathers that were almost _threatening_; similar to bat wings, they were immensely hollow in shape and had several bones visible out the sides.

This was no cosplay, even an idiot could begin to realize that.

At this point, I wanted to run away in terror.

"Relax," he hissed, watching my stiff figure in the mirror in front. "I'm_ not_ a vampire, I won't bite and I'm certainly not here to harm you." In desperation, my throat went dry and free of saliva.

"Then why am I here? And more importantly, who the hell _are _you?" I spat, teeth gritting and hands curled in to tight balls.

Ignoring my question, he caressed the side of my cheek before whispering, "The resemblance between you and your mother is almost unrecognizable. Natsume Hyuuga, is the name." My eyes didn't know how to take all the confusion. Should I have been shouting out of frustration, crying till my tears drowned out my eyes or stayed silent until I got my desired answers? I just didn't know.

"Where is my mother? Where's my father? Where am I? How do you know my father? How do you even know me? Why am I—" my heart spilled its words out, unable to stop.

"You want answers, right?" I nodded, my mouth whimpering out a 'yes' which was hardly even heard. "Alright, I'll give you some answers." The mirror was no longer reflective, but portraying a picture of two people, auburn-brown hair, hazel-coated eyes, that same choppy hairstyle—

"_Mum_! _Dad_!" I cried out, finger extending to reach out to the mirror. Collapsing to the floor and on my knees, my arms couldn't help but fight to try and grasp at their portrayals. With my mother's eyes clearly puffier than ever with the extreme amount of tears, she rubbed her face with her wrist and looked directly at me with pitiful eyes.

My arms returned by my side.

"Perhaps your so-called 'family' could give you some answers since their decision is what brought you upon my residence, am I _correct_?" My body froze, eyes darting to my parents' who couldn't help but avoid my desperate ones.

"You haven't changed in the slightest; I'm not talking about personality," my parents spat out, words choking up their throats.

"Devils don't age, Yukihara."

_Devils?_

"What are you_ talking_ about? Of course they couldn't have left me here with some_ stranger_, that's just _absurd_! Tell him!" my lips fought back, now not understanding the difference between what could be the look of pity and sympathy. Either way, I couldn't see a nod of approval, nor a phrase that told this person otherwise.

"Mikan, we are _so _sorry but—"

I shushed them. "Why am I here?" my voice bluntly asked, face emotionless.

"To put it simply, you're engaged to me." I felt like my heart could literally stop—_engaged_? I just (literally) turned eighteen, how could I be engaged to a man that was of no familiarity to me, in spite of one dance that just so happened to occur two years ago. Sure, I was curious of who that man could have been, but never would I have guessed that I was _engaged _to him, of all things!

"Expand," I demanded. And so, he did, with the starting point of my birth and how my heart wouldn't beat. How someone had shouted out in the crowd an unnecessary comment about the devils and...

I had read many books about the originality of devils, where they came from and many myths began to expand on this, but never had I gave a second thought that one would be crouching down behind me, with wings bigger than the size of a_ microwave _box. It was all too much of a blur.

I was so indifferent when it came to realism, as a kid. Fantasy stories always interested me by far, the idea of angels and demons, the Greek gods and all of that kind of stuff that I'd sometimes get teased for being so interested in. As a kid, I ignored those, being carefree than most children out there.

Still, eighteen-years old and without a care in the world. My happiness towards others brought smiles, even to my parents who could've been the strictest people in the word sometimes.

"This birth mark..." I put a hand to my stomach, clenching my fingers tight against it.

"Oh, no. That's no birth mark. This was the signing of the contract, and while you didn't notice it that much, it grew bigger the older you got." My eyes, wandered to my mother's eyes that were full of betrayal. My lingering fingers removed from my abdomen and pressed against the silk satin of the kimono. Though it was of a beautiful, rising sunset colour, I just couldn't bring myself to wear such a thing that was also being worn by the mother who made the decision to _abandon_ me.

"You_ lied_ to me," I hurtfully reminded them, not with a tone of voice that could tell I was infuriated inside, but spoke with words of _shame_.

My sentence silenced my sobbing parents, not that they weren't already hushed by my words and questions already. Grabbing my kimono to keep myself stable, I placed my hand against the wall and ran back to the room I was in with a distraught face—oh, how _did _I get caught up in such a mess?

Though it was of annoyance, my kimono didn't stop me from running at all. My uncontrollable feet ran further and further away from that mirror, wary of the chance of falling down and crashing my face against the creaking, wooden floorboards. With a crash of a slamming the door, I jumped in to the only furniture in the room—the bed, and inhaled the bittersweet, cinnamon scent of the duvet that I had managed to cover my body in.

Curled up like a woodlouse, I didn't know whether to cry or not. I had no tears stinging to my eyes and felt like my voice box had been cut off so the words that I _desperately_ tried to leak out of my mouth, just refused to come out. To my surprise, I knew exactly what I was going to say to my parents if I ever saw them again—but my mouth felt so _dry_. After minutes of hesitating, I would choke up the dry saliva stuck down my throat and never be able to say what I wanted to, because I would _die_.

Yes, die.

Though there were no creaky floorboards in my room, the small thud of footsteps always managed to alarm my ears. I grabbed the duvet and almost suffocating myself, tightened it around my body even further with no thoughts about the loss of oxygen my lungs were receiving.

"Do you want to come to dinner?" he asked me, leaning against the far end of the room's wall and not struggling to get the duvet off me like anyone _else_ would. Even though my eyes were occupied with the amount of dimness it was filled with, I could still hear the small, but noticeable _thump_ noise that his back made as it met contact with the wall behind him.

"No!" I barked, in a rasping tone.

"Look, just hear me out—" I didn't even give him a chance, pulling away the covers and darting my eyes to him luminous ones that magnificently managed to be observable in the darkness.

"No, I don't want to! I don't want to hear out your lame excuses!" I could hear the short, sharp stop to his breath.

"I wasn't going to make you listen to them, believe me," he leered, removing his back from the wall and walking closer to the bed.

In comfort, he rested his head on my shoulder—tickling my neck with the short, silky-tender strands of his hair that felt softer than a coat of velvet. The layers of the skin on the course of my neck prickled with the tingling sensation, fingers numb and unable to move his face away from my shoulder. In that moment, we were both silently emotionless; with the thumping of my heartbeat, I felt like a thousand bricks were being heaved on top of my body with the amount of shock it had startled me.

"Trust me, I…" I found his voice fading away, wavering. "…have had more than enough lectures in life than you should know. That's why giving you one is pointless, too, because words will not affect you anymore." Though I was unsure as it was a good stir in my stomach or not, the warmth in my body felt like it was being transmitted to his by the fact that we were in contact—was he _enjoying _this?

"That's right," I told him, words being forced to be spat out. "You're completely right, but you and I—"

"Sakura, I _won't _make you regret being my bride. You _will _see, sooner or later." His conceitedness had gone to his brain, obviously. Did he really think that I'd be gullible enough to believe that a man, who had forced this marriage on me, would actually make me happy? My doubts proved otherwise and if I didn't know better, I'd think he was a narcissistic, self-absorbed jerk-face that had bi-polar issues around girls.

My hands, which had just risen from the dead, took control of his body as I shoved his shoulders away from mine and looked at him like he was a nasty virus going around. "I will _never_ learn to love someone like you."

"What does 'someone like me' mean, exactly?" My face tilted forward so our eyes were on the same level, staring at each other like lost puppies in a forest.

"A devil;_ that's_ what I mean." In the human world, this would be considered racist—hating one for being of the opposing culture or race, but this was no human world. Heck, I didn't even have the slightest clue what world this exactly was! I had warped the word '_Underworld_' in my brain, seeing as I hadn't exactly seen any_ angels_ around, just yet.

I furthered the distance between us, leaving the bed and the entire room. I ran out with my entire head being in a complete haze, not sure what my next move should have really been—should I have not ran away and confronted him, head on? I would probably never know what would happen afterwards if I did that, whether it would be ending in another fight, or…I don't know.

It was merely impossible for Hyuuga and I to ever get along, because living in too different worlds (_literally_) just separated your knots that you would try _so_ hard to tie up.

We could never be.

.

I was going to escape. That's right, between the disoriented state of perplexity and distraught, I was going to be free of the chains and locks that he had assigned to me. Though I'd possibly have no idea where to go, I would escape and make my way from there.

I wasn't going to stick around forever, obviously.

My head turning left and right, I honestly had no idea where to go; there were so many doors, hallways and staircases that I felt like I was in more of a _maze_, than a house.

After twenty minutes of a constant loop of running around, I walked down my last staircase and saw a door. One that could possibly, just possibly, lead me out. It was larger compared to all the other ones and had had two opposing handles instead of one—that_ surely _had to mean something, right? Not that this was some kind of an fairytale where all the larger doors meant more importance, but—

"I feel_ so_ sorry for the poor girl," a voice, a few rooms away, spoke out in a melodramatic tone. "I was thinking of befriending her, actually."

"You shouldn't be befriending her just over pity, Misaki—I mean, admit it, that's pretty sad. I wouldn't want a lap dog following me around because they _pitied_ me." By now, my footsteps had stopped and I had found myself stepping closer to the voices, to the point that I was right behind the door of where they came from.

"Alright, you've got a point, but—"

"She has to be interesting enough for Hyuuga to insist on marrying her, though. I mean, a human? That's just not possible."

"She's turned _reaaally _hot, don't you guys think—"

"Shut up Tsubasa, no one asked_ you_!"

"Just because you're jealous, doesn't mean that—"

"I am _not _jealous; I just think that choosing a girl who's six years younger than you is a bit…pervy, that's all."

I was certain of who they were talking about: me. I continued to listen, despite my melancholy state of mind warning me not too; though eavesdropping never did any good, I wondered if perhaps, I could get some information on Hyuuga and maybe get to know him more, without having to ask and sound like a _television_ interviewer.

"C'mon, aren't your parents twenty-five years apart in age differences or something?"

"That's exactly why you shouldn't be thinking she's 'hot'! Don't make the same mistake they did."

"It's not like we're going to be getting engaged the next minute with my ring on her finger and that lot, I just said—"

"Don't you know eavesdropping isn't ever a solution to anything?" Compared to all the others, this voice was definitely a lot more different than the others: it was quite low, but still had a feminine pitch to it. My heart almost stopped.

The heavy breathing that filled the room had stopped, too; it had minimized as the door that I had been leaning against opened with an ear-bleeding screeching sound.

I was never going to be able to escape out of this place, now was I?

* * *

Not on Natsume's watch, Mikan. ;)

It was my birthday on the twelfth of August! I had such a good day!

Anyway, review and I'll hug you virtually? :3


	4. Chapter 4: Dancing Shoes

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

Ugh. I had to type this out five freaking times because my laptop was reacting up and shutting down on me EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Sorry I had to start this with a miniature rant (x_x) but anyway, _thank you for all the reviews_! : )

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**Chapter 4:** Dancing Shoes

"I-I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just happened by accident I promise—" Mikan stammered, the words choking out of her mouth. She faced downwards and made very little sound as her feet tapped lightly against the wooden floorboards, wondering how on earth this woman was able to see—or hear, through _two_ large so easily!

"You were waiting outside that door for fifteen minutes, that's clearly _not_ an accident," the woman responded immediately, words harsh and hard-hitting like a tough golf-ball. Picking herself up from her seated position, the woman watched as her Prussian-blue kimono fell to the ground and followed her body as she made her way to the brunette, grimacing at her posture.

"I am _truly _sorry, I did not mean in any way to—" she insisted, still not daring to face the woman.

"Make eye contact with the people you're speaking too and stop hunching your shoulders in such a disrespectful manner, it's extremely ungraceful," she ordered, watching Mikan's shoulders rise with stiffness. At the sight of the woman in front of her, Mikan pursed her lips and took a heavy breath.

Like statuesque ivory, her fair, pale-faced skin shone in great contrast to her eggplant-coloured eyes. Though a few shades darker than her short, choppy hair, they were big and most certainly beautiful. She was a woman of a stickler to refinement and elegance, which was something she had noticed Mikan to be missing by _far_.

"Of all the creatures roaming around, he just had to choose a_ human_—those ghastly little creatures, he puts_ shame_ to our kingdom. Such a disgrace," she spat out, words hitting Mikan like the essence of poison. Though the brunette had the biggest temptation to slap this woman out of her right mind, she denied it in case of the consequences.

"Hotaru, you shouldn't be saying that, it's rude to Mikan—" Before her friend had the ability to continue with her sentence, Hotaru walked past the brunette in disgrace and closed the door with a loud slamming noise. With an awkward air silencing the room, no one knew what to say. "Don't mind her, she's just probably mad that she hasn't had her crabs yet, so ignore our melodramatic pessimist of a friend. I'm Misaki Harada, by the way."

With a bit of a fake smile, Mikan nodded at the coral-pink haired lady in front of her and noticed the extreme amount of similarities this lady had compared to her mother, excluding the hair colour. Same length and bangs that were thick, but still had her eyes visible. "I'm—"

"Mikan, we know," interrupted two different voices at the same time, both with a similar pitch that would almost seem unrecognizable to a blind eye. "We're the twins," they said in union, once again.

"I'm Anna," A bubblegum pink-haired girl popped out abruptly in front of the brunette, her long curls at the bottom of her locks bouncing upwards and downwards along with her body.

"…I'm Nonoko," introduced another, with looks (not including the peachy-coated skin that they shared) completely the opposite to her so-called twin: dark, straight strands with thick bangs at the front. Awkwardly, Mikan nodded to the 'twins' and glanced her eyes over to the man who was standing near the window, waiting for her to question his presence.

"You're the guy I saw earlier today, right?" she asked, watching him nod in approval.

"Yeah, I'm Tsubasa Andou but you can call me Tsubasa."

"Ah, I now see what you meant by that sentence. It confused me a lot but I—he told me…about it. All of it." Not knowing what to say any further, Mikan felt all eyes on her. "It's great to meet you all, and I guess my arrival must be really strange to you all. It is to me, anyway."

"Mikan, I…I think that Hyuuga isn't the bad guy you think he'd be." In disagreement to Anna's statement, Mikan shook her head and breathed in heavily, head in a disoriented state of confusion.

"Part of me wants to believe that, but I just can't wind my head around the fact that I'm _actually_ here. This is too surreal for it to be true and I'm waiting for this dream to fade away like all my other fantasies have; never in a million years would I expect _this_ to be my future," she spoke out honestly, not knowing how to continue afterwards.

"You're making all of this sound like a bad thing," Misaki continued, "but it's really not." Biting the inside of her cheeks, Mikan just didn't know _what _to believe, because frankly, their opinions were just a bit biased—they lived in his kingdom, of course they'd say that! "You'll soon realize that, too," she finished.

"Misaki's never wrong, you should trust her," Nonoko advised.

"I-I have to go. A night's rest will do me some good."

Without further thought, Mikan ran off and out of the room, not sure where she should have been headed—though her original thought was to escape from this…tower, her head was just whirling thoughts in and out of her mind that were incomprehensible by the amount of sleep she had received. In a rhythmic pattern, her shoeless feet drummed against the spanking clean floorboard, and she felt the urge to just run back to her room and get the peaceful amount of sleep she rightfully deserved.

Though, Mikan had no idea where she was, nor did she know how she was going to get back without asking for help.

.

With the sunlight hammering against the glass window, Mikan's eyes strained as they opened with force and only to be welcomed with such lustrously radiating ray of sunshine. Almost freaking out, she wasn't sure where she was or how she got there—the last thing she remembered was wandering aimlessly across the halls of _hell_'s kingdom, and completely collapsing out of an extreme case of exhaustion.

Whether she was brought back or carried was something that Mikan could not care less about, she was happily in a bed that was twice—_triple _the size of her one at home and to make it even better, had the duvet worth of feathers handpicked from an angel's wing.

In fatigue, she rolled over to her right side, only to see Misaki's face of boredom blowing the coat of strawberry-red varnish she had painted on her lengthy nails. Noticing the awakening eyes of Mikan, she jumped (only slightly) and suddenly felt the awkward tension in the air, not knowing how to explain the reason to her presence.

"I was just—uh, well—I was—" she stuttered, not wanting to sound like a pervert who watched the faces of little girls sleep. Not that Mikan was much of a little girl, anyway, and more like an adult. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were awake. Tsubasa asked me to check on you and wake you up for breakfast but you seemed so peaceful I just couldn't, so I thought I could wait a little bit." Nodding, Mikan pushed away the covers and slipped on slippers, her ultramarine-blue dressing gown falling to her knees.

"Do you know…what happened last night? After I left the room, I mean," she asked curiously, trying to fill the void with unnecessary words.

"Natsume saw you collapsing and he carried you to your room," Misaki responded as she walked over to the window and grabbed hold of the curtains, opening them and streaming through the unbearable glow of sunshine that illuminated through.

"Wait—so—did he _undress _me?" the brunette panicked, clutching on the hem of her dressing gown and fiddling with it in terror. Unconsciously, Misaki gave out a roar of laughter and raised an eyebrow, not really knowing what to reply with.

"Why don't you ask him that?" she giggled, leaving Mikan's mouth hanging half-open in shock. "Come on, we're going down for breakfast so you need to quickly get dressed. I filled your wardrobe so you've got plenty of clothes, and you've got about ten minutes to get ready before we'll begin eating." Before she could bat an eyelid, Misaki had vanished out of thin air and left the curiosity in Mikan's head growing.

He wouldn't have, right?

Opening the wardrobe with the grip of her clammy palms against the doorknob, she hesitated to choose something from the range of clothing options she had—there was everything! Dresses, kimonos, skirts, shoes and as the tip of her fingers trailed down to meet the quality of the fabric, she loved the feeling of the fine material lingering against her fingers.

Hastily picking out a not-so-formal carnation-pink kimono, Mikan pondered about why she had to be dressed so ceremonially, yet for such a small occasion. Breakfast was never something extraordinarily important, after all.

As she ran down staircases and through several unknown doors to find her destination, Mikan wondered how different the mornings were, compared to the nights: the sky was clearer than any day in Japan and the radiance of light that managed to shine through the semi-transparent curtain was so enticingly beautiful that she was tempted to just stand by the windows, gazing away at the beauty.

Although Misaki had told her to come to breakfast, she wasn't exactly sure where breakfast _was _and after opening too many doors that were emptily unused, she had run out of energy to do anything else. In desperation, the breathless brunette leaned against the darkening walls and slid down to the ground, burying her head against her knees and panting heavily in attempt to regain her energy again, bringing up the question, where the heck _was _she?

Though there were hundreds of doors, none of them seemed to be occupied; even though you wouldn't really be able to tell, Mikan was scarily haunted by the fact that she would open one of them and only to reveal for it to be occupied—resulting in her humiliation.

"Harada is such an idiot." Mikan's head sprang up, watching the kneeling Natsume in front of her, gingerly caressing the strands of her hair. Unsure of what to respond with, she instantly knew what he meant and took a heave of the air, directing her hazel-eye away from his dangerous ruby-coated ones. "We need to do something about these tangly knots of yours," he noted, running his fingers down her hair like a brush.

Mikan frowned. "Says _you_."

"I'm not a king from a fairytale book and I'm most certainly not prepared to gel back my hair in attempt to please you, or anyone _else_ for that matter," Natsume said, ignoring her escaping laughter.

After a few minutes worth of utter silence and coincidentally sitting on the floor, they noticed how awkward their conversations always were; even though they were supposedly meant to be 'engaged', was this natural? The embarrassment and rosy-red cheeks that flustered her, was it all _normal_?

"You're probably hungry, right?" Natsume questioned the girl in front of him, removing his hand delicately away from her face. Mikan nodded, although she was uncertain of the choice of food that would be on the table and whether she would like it or not. "Alright, let's go get you something to eat."

After fifteen minutes, Mikan had suddenly realized that the width of the table she was sitting in front of was almost three times the size of her bed; she could hardly see her fiancé's _face_, let alone be able to speak a word without having to repeat her sentence louder. In the wordless silence, she put the spoon to her lips and took a small sip of the chicken soup she had always been so fond of as a child.

Though having only the two and a couple of maids standing inside and outside of the dining room, Mikan had realized how busy it seemed, despite having very little inside; the walls, being a darker shade of mauve, made her feel so closed in and trapped, in spite of not exactly knowing why. There were only a few pieces of furniture positioned—the lengthy table, two whole rows of chairs that weren't occupied and a wooden wardrobe that was oddly sitting at the corner of the room.

"Do you remember that dance, two years ago?" Choking, Mikan almost dropped her spoon, coughing uncontrollably.

"How could I _forget_?" she remarked, sipping down a bottle of ice-cold water that cooled down the insides of her mouth. "But what has this got to do with anything? You're not the type of fatherly-figure who'd be all golly-jolly about bringing up memories."

He ignored her question. "Well, it seems like we still haven't had the chance to announce our engagement and there's an upcoming ball havening today, so I was thinking maybe…"

.

"For the _fiftieth _time—"

"The_ second_ time, Hyuuga! Second!"

"Whatever, stop stepping on my foot or I will deliberately step on yours and not care if you go running away in tears!" the pissed off Natsume Hyuuga retorted, pulling away from his dance partner and giving a deep heave of a sigh. "I don't get it—you were fine _then_, what happened?" he questioned, watching her furrowed eyebrow and arms that were crossed.

"You were actually calm with me when you instructed me what to do, now, you're worse than Captain Hook on a bad day!" Mikan snapped.

"That was the lamest comparison I have_ ever_ heard in my life," he insulted, watch the brunette throw her arms back in annoyance and open her mouth half-way, extremely shocked as to what he had just said.

"Why are you so _grumpy_ right now?" Mikan questioned him.

"Why are you so bad at _dancing_ right now?" he mimicked her, slightly changing the sentence to suit his liking; a scowl formed on the line of her cherry-tinted lips, feeling the rage inside her growing with aggravation and anger. Soon enough, it had cleared away as she counted up to ten, took a deep breath and dryly smiled, fixing up the hem of her newly-worn dress. "Look, this dance means more than all of my birthdays put together and it has to go _perfectly_."

"Let's give this another go, and this time, please be a little gentler with your instructions before I lose my temper, okay?" Though she had supposedly asked a question, it was more intentional to be a_ statement _rather than something to answer. Obediently, the crimson-eyed boy laced his fingers around hers, clasping together like a match of a lock and key, before then curling his fingers around her hip; he felt the tight grip Mikan put as she slowly placed another hand on his shoulder, slowing down her breathing rate and taking small steps as Natsume guided her.

In spite of having the leadership capability of a dead zebra, Mikan continued to follow her partner's steps, knowing that slow dancing definitely was_ not_ her cup of tea. Still, dancer or not, it was easier than she originally imagined.

"Your shoulders are too stiff, relax them a little bit, but keep them firm enough so that you're not moving like a jellyfish," Natsume directed her, feeling the firmness in Mikan's posture lessening and becoming a bit more springy. "Yeah, like that."

Dancing smoothly, Mikan felt the pulse of the music gracefully taking control of her body and forcefully controlling her steps and even though her dancing ability could have been better, she had a dancing partner who—unlike _before_—helped her. His steps and movements were so refined that it motivated her to keep going, and in spite of being aware of the fact that dancing better than him was_ not_ possible, it still gave her enthusiasm.

"Is that better?" she softly whispered, not wanted to disrupt their rhythmic flow.

"A _lot_ better than last time," Natsume replied, and even though there wasn't one across his lips, Mikan _knew _he was smiling mentally.

"See? Being gentler _does_ solve problems," Mikan repeated with a small chuckle hiding behind her words. Even though he hadn't responded, the brunette could tell exactly what he was thinking, even if he hadn't said it: _it does not_. "It does!" she attempted to convince him, watching his face which wasn't particularly amused. Natsume shook his head. "But it does, just look—"

"_Ow_," Natsume groaned in pain, grabbing hold of his shoe and shooting the auburn-brunette a glare that could_ possibly_ kill. "How many times have I told you _not _to step on me with those damn heels of yours?!" he shouted, hands wrapped around the stabbed foot in frustration.

Backing away, Mikan grabbed hold of her six inch stilettos (which she still was unsure as to how she was capable of dancing in) and snapped the heel in half with rage, dropping it and causing the shoe to crash to the floor. "Are you_ happy _now, Mr. I-want-everything-perfect?" Unable to cough out the words from his mouth, Natsume stayed in pain, on the floor; his arms were firmly wrapped around his knee, not being able to talk from all the excruciating aching of his foot. "Y-you brought this upon yourself, y'know!"

In irritation (and a hint of embarrassment), Mikan ran off with her bare feet carrying her to the nearest door she could find—a round-edged, wooden door opposite of the one she had just previously been in. Her eyes stinging with the small droplets of her tears, she stopped, tripped over her own feet and stayed half-dead on the floor for a few seconds. "Moron." Mikan's ears perked up, cringing with humiliation at what she had done, not knowing that a complete _stranger _had been in the room!

His voice, being a low, sonorous tone with a tint of exquisiteness, spoke out again, "I don't know who you are, but go away. You're bothering me." Mikan's head (which was buried by the wrappings of her arms) lifted with nuisance.

"You don't know who _I_ am? B-but, I'm the queen—well, _almost_," she informed him, lifting herself up with the trace of cerise hiding along her cheeks out of embarrassment.

"Well then, if you're the so-called queen, what are you doing _here _in my bedroom?" he remarked. Mikan, completely clueless of her surroundings, looked around.

It was an unadorned room with no other furniture, excluding the bed and table a few inches across from it; a man, lying down on the creamy-beige coloured sheets, had one leg raised higher than the other while an overly-large sized book covered the majority of his face. Unlike hers, this room was a lot brighter in wallpaper, being designed with white and taupe-coated walls and furniture; she felt such a heavenly aura, looking around.

"I was angry because Hyuuga kept shouting at me while we were dancing and I kept stepping on his foot by accident—"

"Forget it, I don't want to know. Just get out," he rudely interrupted her, taking back his question. In disbelief of his rudeness, Mikan, standing up and dusting off her shoulders, casually strolled over to his lying body and whipped away the book from his grasp; she flicked through the pages and felt a whim of laughter overcome her—oh, how interesting _this_ was!

"Is this book To Kill a Mockingbird? What are you, a _girl_?" With irritation, he snatched the book away from her hands and placed it back on the table, watching her furrowed eyebrows.

"I know plenty of boys who read this book, that doesn't make them anymore feminine than you are," he remarked. "Ugly." Mikan widened her mouth in disbelief.

"Look here, kid—"

"I'm the same age as you, that makes _you_ a kid too," he responded in a casual tone, not bothered by her hovering and half-open mouth. "You'll catch flies, close your mouth."

Mikan scowled at his looks, with his dishevelled hair being the colour of battleship gray and his eyes being several tones darker than minty green—as unimaginable as it was, the comparison to Natsume she made felt _too_ similar. That cocky and those overconfident words of his, along with part of his facial features, reminded her of that irksome, crimson-eyed man.

"Don't you have anything else to do, besides standing here and gawking at me like I'm an unknown species to the world?" Veins appearing from hearing his smug words, the irritated brunette shrugged off the extreme temptation to grab him by his (very small, in fact) ears and pin him up against the wall like a painting. It wasn't impossible.

"Well I would, if that _moodyguts_ back there would actually _help_ me instead of shouting in my ear like I'm his slave! So, until he comes and looks for me, I'm staying right where I am."

"Slow dance, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not like you'd care or anything—"

"I can help you. If I help you perfect your dance, you'll go away and I won't have to see your face again, right?"

"You'd do that for me?" Mikan questioned him, surprised at such a small catch. With a small smile lengthening across her face, she high-fived the air in joy.

"Idiot, stop smiling. You look like a creepy old lady," he affronted, lazily slumping out of the bed and dragging himself up to meet the face of his dance partner. Despite the fact that he was several inches taller than the brunette, Mikan had noticed how short he was in contrast to Natsume—though that would possibly be the result of the two year age difference between them. "Hand." Obediently doing so, Mikan felt the squeeze he gave her as their fingers linked together and she loosely held on to his shoulder as he did the same to her left hip.

"I'm guessing Natsume already told you about the don't-be-too-firm rule." Nodding, Mikan oddly began to feel the one foot distance between them somehow getting…closer. Although neither of them had moved closer in, she felt like the world was closing in on her a little bit, so much that her head began to whirl out of control. "Good, I can tell you were listening when he said that."

Not knowing how to respond, the auburn-brunette found it hard to meet his eyes. "First tip, look at your partner. It's a bit disrespectful if you're not and pointless if you're finding it too awkward," he directed her, watching her hazel eyes dart to his, showing a tint of embarrassment.

Guided by his steps, Mikan felt the gap in Natsume and his similarities widening, with some even disappearing; while Natsume had more aggressive actions towards the brunette, the man in front of her was a lot more…gentler, but only when he wished to be. Still, she couldn't really say much about either of them, considering she hadn't known either for a very long period of time.

"Tip two, if you're worried about stepping on your partner's feet…" Mikan scowled to herself mentally at just the thought. "…don't be. The more you think about it, there is more of a chance that you will. Just keep going and you should trust you partner in their dancing abilities to guide you, especially if it's Natsume. So don't stress, and keep your eyes directing to the person in front of you."

As Mikan nodded, she wondered if he could feel the clamminess of her palm increasing, but even if he did, it didn't seem he was saying anything about it—the brunette was really annoyed by the fact that she was forced to continuously refer to her partner as 'he' or 'him', not knowing his name.

"Hey, I don't know your—"

"Youichi, have you—"The voice, which had suddenly grown louder by the seconds passing, stopped without even fading as the loud sound of a door shutting behind them was made; unintentionally, Mikan took control of her body again, took her hands and shoved them against Youichi's chest, causing him to fly backwards and hit his head against the wooden table. Ouch.

Nail against her teeth, Mikan's body froze in the sight of Youichi's body being slammed against the table as she began to continuously replay in her mind at the vision she had just witnessed—no, _committed_. "I am _so_ sorry!" she pleaded in an apologetic tone, not entirely concerned of the crimson-eyed man who was almost sending _death_ glares behind her and had a not-so-bright aura surrounding his body.

"What the hell did you do to my _brother_?" Natsume barked, watching her gasping mouth open even further at the sight of him.

"H-how much of that did you see—wait, your who now?"

"Answer my question you fool, what the hell did you do to him?"

"Forget that, answer mine you dimwit!" After hearing an insult being thrown towards him, Natsume felt infuriated—no one had the right to offend him or call him names like that, let alone a _mere_ girl!

"Ow…"a timid voice muttered out as two heads immediately turned his way, not realizing their selfishness. Youichi, who was still lying half-dead on the floor, rubbed the back of his head with the bottom of his palm in hope to cure away the pain; his 'brother' ran to Youichi's side, holding back the tempting urge to scream at the brunette.

"You little—"

"Guys! The ball is about to begin!" Tsubasa burst in, almost panicking. "We need you, Natsume! They're demanding for you and your fiancée's entrance!"

_Oh_, Mikan thought, her head down in dismay. _Fantastic._

* * *

As you can probably already tell, I have this creepy-not-pedo-ish-at-all addiction for Youichi. He's so adorable. :P

I'm sorry to those who saw this chapter as filler, but it kinda wasn't because it was really necessary for future chapters. :) (And next chapter, of course!)

_Okay, go check out my poll on my profile, please? :)_

Thanks for reading, reviews are especially appreciated and I hope you have a good day!


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